


until a brand new world takes shape

by proximally



Series: abandoned works [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, For Want of a Nail, Gen, ie. the galra find earth before voltron is found
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proximally/pseuds/proximally
Summary: A failed safety check of the Kerberos sets the entire mission back two weeks.The repercussions are unfathomable.
Series: abandoned works [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981928
Collections: Good Intentions: Abandoned and Unfinished WIPs





	until a brand new world takes shape

**Author's Note:**

> title from the lyrics of Earth by Sleeping At Last, which is a fun little bit of serendipity.
> 
> originally written in december 2016. please don't talk to me about anything that's happened since then. i don't know and i don't _want_ to know.
> 
> that said, if you'd like to take the concept and run with it, please feel free! i'd really appreciate this being linked back to though.

They are a small ship; lightly armored, modestly armed, with just enough crew to keep the vessel ship-shape while allowing for sick days. An average Galra scouting ship, built to explore the great unknown. 

...Not that this sector is really all that unknown. Sure, the latest intelligence is well over ten thousand years old, but this is a quiet corner of the galaxy - the eight planets of the system have stable enough orbits, and the star itself is a standard R^H2.8. Nothing much of note happens in systems such as this, beyond the occasional asteroid strike - and even then the difference is mostly just cosmetic. 

They are merely passing through, taking the opportunity to update their records as they go. 

They do not expect to make first contact.

* * *

“Captain Abyk, sir!” 

It is late. The day shift is coming to a close, and the on-duty crewmembers are getting antsy, counting down every tick - she can see it in their expressions, and the way they fidget in their seats. They want nothing more than a little downtime - a decent meal, a chat with a friend, a good long sleep. She knows this because, _god,_ so does she - and by the look on Lieutenant Koryx’ face, she’ll not be getting it.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” she answers, hoping her dismay doesn’t show _too_ clearly.

“We are picking up transmissions of unknown origin, sir! Several languages appear to have been used, none previously catalogued! We are currently attempting to decode them, sir!”

“Please, Lieutenant, you don’t have to shout. I am _right next to you_.” Koryx is an exemplary soldier, one Captain Abyk knows she is very lucky to have as her right hand - but the person just doesn’t understand the concept of an indoor voice. She suspects Koryx may be slightly deaf, despite their medical records disclosing otherwise. “Have you pinpointed the transmissions’ origins?”

“Yes, sir!” replies the Lieutenant. Realising their unaltered volume, they repeat, a touch quieter, “Ah - yes, sir. The planet M21-R837b-3 appears to support life, and it is from multiple points on its surface and in its orbit that the signal originates. Based on the available data, we believe this to be a rebel base!”

Captain Abyk frowns, thinking back to the reports she’s read. System M21-R837b _was_ reported to have a life-compatible planet, and, if she remembers correctly, the rough beginnings of a sentient species. The surveyors of old, as part of the then-substantial peacemongerer faction, had been content to leave them be; they’d even had the _gall_ to suggest a quarantine zone - and what a bloody stupid concept _that_ was. Sectioning off an _entire_ system, for _millennia_ , just so some primitive brutes could ‘develop without outside influence’ until they came up with interstellar travel? What a ridiculous notion. Smarter to just take whatever you want while the locals can’t stop you.

No quarantine was ever put in place, here - any plans to would’ve been summarily squashed by the defeat of Voltron and the pacifist faction shortly after its discovery. Yet despite that, few - if anyone - seem to have bothered visiting, besides perhaps these supposed rebels. Captain Abyk finds herself oddly curious - how far can a budding species get in just ten thousand years? If, of course, they haven’t been wiped out by natural causes or space invaders first.

Well. At best, she thinks, they might have agriculture and stone walls. Most certainly they could not have transmissions technology. Lieutenant Koryx is doubtless correct: if it’s not the indigenous species, then it’s a spacefaring one and the only kind who’d come this far into this sector _must_ be hiding something.

And that’s the sort of thing she’s supposed to report to High Command, which means dealing with Major Droxar, which she is loathe to do at the best of times, let alone this late in the ship cycle--

She's about to call up communications when she hears a distressed “Sir!” carry across the room, and it takes such a huge amount of effort not to sigh in relief that Captain Abyk feels almost as if she deserves a medal for her self-control. Sergeant Utvek, one of the comms officers. Oh, just excellent. Maybe Droxar sensed her displeasure. She schools her features into a bland sort of expression, and her stride rapidly covers the ground between her and the sergeant's desk. “Sir, I, um, there seems to be a, uh, ship? Heading sort of in our direction? Um, it's not a registered model, and there's not even any recognisable tags to it…”

**Author's Note:**

> the outline for what the rest of this fic would've been:  
> \- galra pass pluto, neptune; wait wtf is that on the radar?? a tiny spaceship, aimed at pluto  
> \- ...can’t be a native, right? nah.  
> \- they hail it, as per protocol; who are you, where are you from and why are you here??  
> \- (it’s shiro & the holts) (earth, obvs) (they’re going to pluto)  
> \- ……...holy hells they’re unsocialised natives and i’m not qualified for this uh mAJOR  
> \- ‘the roster tells me you should have a xenopsychologist at hand?’ ‘uh well funny story’ ‘...aw hells. alright just. hang tight. we’ll get one to you. give us a day or two ok just. don’t screw this up’  
> \- meanwhile: ‘uH COMMANDER IVERSON’ ‘what’ ‘tHERES ALIENS OUT HERE’ ‘WHAT’  
> \- "protocol for newly spacefaring races: annihilate or assimilate; i would in this case suggest assimilate. their planet is rich only in raw iron, which we can get anywhere, and trace other useful metals - but not in any great quantity. not optimal conditions for galra habitation - too variable. 'humans' themselves are the only things of interest - abundant, adaptable, industrious, long history of war; would make good cannon fodder, if not true allies. suggest trading interstellar flight and other basic knowledge in return for 'help'; make them indebted."
> 
> resulting in:  
> \- shiro pilots a galra ship; as the 1st to contact aliens, he’s kinda important  
> \- the academy now has galra teachers / teaches galra knowledge  
> \- everyone is there, except pidge bc theyre still katie


End file.
